We'll Always Have Berlin
by Khrijunk
Summary: Brock Sampson's new mission will change his life forever. Prequel to the VB series
1. A New Mission

"Does it hurt my little Sampson?" came the voice he heard almost every night in its strong Russian accent. He looked up to once again find that he was pinned to a bed with the most incredible woman sitting on top of him. She drew her knives back and thrust them into his shoulders. He felt no pain and she continued to taunt him, twisting the blades a bit before jumping off him onto the floor. As she hit, her red hair flowed down to her shoulders, framing the most beautiful and exotic face he had ever seen. She snapped her fingers and flames shot out behind her, instantly surrounding the pair in the small Paris apartment. She walked through the flames towards where he lay pinned, swaying teasingly, with a hint of a smile on her lips.

From behind her, a knock sounded on the door of the apartment, but she took no notice of it and continued to advance. Brock waited with eager expectation, making no move to remove the knives from his shoulders or try to retrain her in any way. The Russian vision continued to advance as another knock sounded at the door.

This knock brought him out of the dream and back into his room at the Office of Secret Intelligence (OSI) headquarters. It was a small room barely fitting the bed he slept in and a small nightstand he kept assorted odds on. The life of an OSI officer kept them from spending much time in his room, so it did not need much space to do its job. He regretfully sighed when he realized the knock would not fade with the rest of the dream, and reached for the packet of smokes on the table, waiting for the knock to sound again.

However, it did not. Before he could reach for the lighter, the door kicked in to reveal a smaller man with a long cigarette holder dangling from his mouth. "Get up, Sampson, we don't have time for you to dilly dally, big, important stuff is going on and you are required." Colonel Hunter Gathers, his mentor at OSI entered the room swiftly, and to prove his words began to drag the larger man out by his arms. The smaller man had amazing strength for someone of his stature. Brock barely managed to grab his lighter from the nightstand before he was led out of the room.

"Here, put these on. You may want to think about sleeping with clothes on, to be ready in a moments notice." Hunter shoved a pile of clothes at Brock without taking his eyes off the corridor in front of him. Brock accepted the clothes and made attempts at dressing himself while keeping up with Hunter. His mentor did not slow down to accommodate his pupil. When he slipped his shirt on, Hunter finally looked at him. "You look like hell."

Brock tried to suppress a smile, his mentor always cut straight to the chase. "I had that dream again, with the Russian woman."

"Let her go, Sampson. Russian women are dangerous in more ways than the obvious, besides you will probably never see her again."

Brock didn't say anything. He walked silently beside the older man, not even questioning why they were up so early. It could only mean one thing, an assignment. They passed by agents who had worked through the night and where going to try to get a few hours sleep before being called upon again. They paid no attention to the two, and Brock passed by without making eye contact. These kinds of mission briefings early in the morning where becoming routine.

They stopped just outside the doors to the briefing room, and Hunter turned to him. "Be ready for anything in there. " in his impatient manner, the colonel inspected Brock. "Fix your hair, it'll look like I pulled you from bed."

The siding of the door in front of him was shiny enough that Brock could see his reflection in it. His blonde hair was standing up on one end, so he used spit to lock it back down. The end of his hair was growing a bit long, and Sampson was willing to let it keep going until it got noticed. The 70s where ending, and it seemed the mullet hair style was really taking off.

With his hair fixed, the two entered the briefing room. The room was cast into a light blue shade with a large map spread across one wall and a circular table in the center. There were two men already inside the room, the commander who gave out missions was sitting at the table speaking to the other, who appeared to be a colonel. When they saw the door open, the commander got out of the chair to face the two. "Thank you for coming so quickly, gentlemen. Now we can get to business." He motioned for the three to find chairs around the table and returned to his seat.

The colonel who had been in the room took a seat next to the commander. Brock sat next to Hunter on the other side of the table. "This is Colonel Traceter, he will be the field commander of this mission. He knows who you two are already, so with the introductions out of the way, lets get to business." The commander handed Brock a large manila envelope containing what he knew to be the information packet.

"You all know that because of the standoff between the United States and Russia, several American scientists have been experimenting with super weapons that will tilt the standoff in our favor. Now, there will be an exhibition in West Berlin two weeks from today in which a certain scientist will be unveiling his newest invention at a convention to the troops stationed there as a way of boosting moral.

With the invention so close to the Russians, we are afraid that the KGB might try to steal it from us. That is where you come in. Colonel Traceter and agent Sampson will stick close to this convention to keep that from happening. This will be a fairly large gathering and a lot of other scientists will be showing up to see what it is. You are to also to be sure that anyone who sees it is from a country we can trust. Any questions?"

"Who is this scientist?" Brock asked.

Traceter slid a folder across the table and Brock opened the front cover to reveal an image of a young man with thinning brown hair coming down to his shoulders. The name section read Thaddeus S. Venture. "I know this guy, we were in collage together before I got kicked out."

"When his dad died, Thaddeus inherited Venture Industries and has been commissioned to carry on his father's work. With his families history, we can not allow whatever weapon he is working on to fall into the wrong hands. Is that clear?"

Both Brock and Traceter nodded their heads.

"Good, we already have an agent in the field scouting for possible weaknesses. This agent will be your partner when you are there. How you are to rendezvous will be explained in the packet. Do this one for America gentlemen."


	2. Arrival

Large, grey storm clouds hovered over the skies of West Berlin as a large supersonic jet cut through them with ease. The jet, dubbed the X-1 by its former owner, flew towards the landing strip smoothly and settled without incident upon the ground and rolled to a stop. The jet's six passengers settled back in their seats, relived the long trip was over. Next to the pilot, the new owner of the jet stared impatiently at the landscape around him. He was in his thirties, with long brown hair reaching to his shoulders but going slightly bald at the top.

"West Berlin my ass, why we couldn't just show off my baby at the United Nations and stay in the comfort of the US is beyond me." Thaddeus S. Venture muttered to himself.

Appearing to not hear him, the pilot finished speaking with the ground crew and pulled her headphones off her head. "Another perfect landing wouldn't you say?" The pilot was in her thirties, with short blonde hair and a much more physical build compared to Venture's slender frame.

"You pushed her a bit to the left, Myra," Venture replied, noticing the angle of the jet on the runway. He caught a glimpse of her face tighten up in rage for an instant, before returning to normal. He unbuckled his seatbelt and made to stand, but finding his clothing caught on the edge of the seat. He was thrown back as he tried to stand.

"Are you all right Rusty?" Myra asked.

"I'm fine, just got my speed suit caught in the seat."

"Need help getting your jumpsuit free?" she asked with a smile.

"No thank you, and I've told you a thousand times its a speed suit," he twisted his pants around and finally managed to get it free. "Why don't you go bother ground control? It looks like they are waiting for you."

He caught that look in her face again, but just as quickly it vanished and she said in a sweet voice, "All right, Rusty. I just hate to see you get you get a hole in your jumpsuit." She winked at him and left the cockpit.

Venture glared after the her. "I really don't know how much longer I can put up with that woman."

"You're lucky, at least you get someone to protect you. " The voice of Peter White, his tall albino friend since college, came from the backseat.

"White, nobody would kill you. You're not the one who's dad left him with a smorgasbord of technological gizmos every freak who can get his hands on a costume apparently wants." Venture sighed and reached into his pants pocket to pull out a small container of pills. "At least she hasn't found out about these little babies." He unscrewed the cap and popped a few pills into his mouth.

The pills started to take effect, and Venture tried to settle into the medication induced peacefulness when another voice stabbed itself into his head. "Dad...Dad...DAD!"

"What!" he screamed and turned around in his seat to glare at his twin boys, Hank and Dean, who were sitting next to each other. Hank, blonde haired with a blue neckerchief, had his finger positioned less than an inch from his brown haired brother's shoulder, and no matter which way Dean shifted the finger stayed at no more than three inches from him. When he saw what was going on, Venture rolled his eyes and reached for his pill bottle again. "Hank, leave your brother alone."

"But I'm not even touching him." Hank tried to defend himself, Dean was nearly in tears.

"I don't care! Put your hands on your lap. This is a very important day for me and I need my concentration here." Venture popped a few more pills in his mouth and stealthily slid the bottle back in his pocket as Myra came back into the cockpit. "Are we finally ready to get off this plane?"

"Yes, everything is prepared and they are expecting us. " she replied.

"Finally." Venture stood and was followed out of the jet by Myra and White. At the bottom of the stairs a path led to a white van that was already packed and ready to take them to the convention hall. When he saw his two boys try to follow he turned and barked, "You two are to stay on the plane while we are getting set up. Berlin is no place to be wandering about in and I don't need you in my way. " He leaned into the jet a bit to catch the attention of his robot HeLPER. "HeLPER, watch these boys and make sure they don't get into trouble."

"Aw, that's no fair, we were on the jet all day." Hank said indignantly.

"No sass, Hank," Venture replied crossly. "Get back in there."

Dean quickly returned to the jet but Hank gave his father an annoyed expression before returning. Venture sighed to himself as he turned around and led the other two down the path and towards the van. "Sassing his father," he muttered to himself. "When I was his age my dad asked me to hide in all kinds of places just so I could be as safe as those two boys are on the plane, and did I ever talk back? No sir."

"They're probally just tired of being stuck there after being there all day," White said as he walked next to Venture. "They might enjoy getting out and stretching their legs a bit."

"What are you talking about? Compared to them the X1 is huge! They can stretch their legs all they want as long as they stay on the plane. This won't take long anyway, I'll just show off my new invention and then we'll be out of here." Venture got into the van and leaned back against the seat. As the jet disappeared behind him, he tried to get himself psyched up for what he hoped to be the exhibition that showed the world that he had finally surpassed his father as the genius super scientist.

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Hank stared out the window as the van drove off. When he could no longer see it, he turned and sat down hard in one of the seats. "Its no fair, we come this far from home and we don't even get to see the country."

"I'm not worried." Dean said. "I made sure to pack a lot of books for the trip, there's plenty to choose from." He reached into a bag sitting next to him and pulled out a random book. It was a small comic book and Dean took only seconds scanning the cover before flipping into it and began reading.

"I don't want to read, there's plenty of adventure out there Deano. We just have to get to it."

"If you want adventure, we could build a fort in the back with pillows and blankets. You can be the invading dragon this time."

"Not forts, real adventure. The kind dad used to have. You know, going to strange countries, finding lost treasure, battling zombies. Thats whats waiting for us out there." He grabbed Dean's arm and began dragging him to the exit. Before he could get there, the metal robot HeLPER raced to block it and began squeaking in his robot speak. "Aw, HeLPER, let us pass," he pleaded.

"Let me do this Hank," Dean said coyly. "HeLPER, dad just said that you had to keep us out of trouble. He didn't specifiy us being on the plane or not. You can keep us out of trouble out there as well as in here." The robot hesitated for a few moments, but eventually moved to allow the boys to pass. Hank and Dean left the jet with HeLPER behind them and disappeared into the streets of West Berlin.


	3. The Wall

The young Venture boys ran haphazardly through the crowded streets, quickly outpacing the slower robot. They didn't even try to pay attention to where they were headed or which way lead back to the safety of the plane. They veered off into small alleys and came out the other end, only to duck into more or behind buildings crowded with people sipping on their morning drinks. "Hank! You're right, this is fun!" Dean exlaimed happily.

Hank just ran on, accepting the praise from his brother as he led them on through the strange new city. It wasn't anything like the Compound he had grown up in, the feeling in the air brought a sense of danger that even his preteen mind could pick up on. Berlin was on the verge of a war, surrounded by enemies and the only bastion of Western civilization amidst the chaos of the Soviet Union. Hank didn't understand any of that political stuff, but he could pick up on the scared expressions of the people he passed. It seemed to be a fear that had made itself a permanent part of these people's lives.

He ran among them leading Dean further into the throng that was the heart of the city. After a time, he sensed Dean tiring behind him and slowed down to allow his younger brother to catch up. "Already feeling tired?" They had stopped at a general intersection. The people stared at the two boys as they went about their lives.

"A little, and I think we lost HeLPER." Dean rested against the side of a brick building.

Hank looked around and saw no sign of their robotic companion. The loss of authority figures made Hank feel less enthused about the prospect of being in a strange and unfamiliar city. The unfamiliar feeling was starting to eat its way into his mind. Becoming afraid, he was about to call HeLPER on his two way communicator watch, but finally noticed he had left it back on the jet. He looked back up to glance around the intersection and the people staring at them and realized he had idea how to make his way back.

As if reading his thoughts, his brother spoke up, "I think we should go back, do you know where we are?"

Hank thought about confessing that he didn't, but looking at his brother's anxious face he decided to try to be confident. "Of course, Dean. No need to worry, we'll find HeLPER and head back. At least we got to look around without dad telling us we're too young to do something." He held out his hand to grasp the younger boys' hand and led his brother through the intersection.

They continued on a while, walking hand in hand for both support and to keep from being separated. As they walked, they tried to brighten each other up with jokes, but soon that died away and they continued in silence. The once freeing sense of a new city became an oppressive force that sank into Hank's being that they were lost.

After an hour of attempting to retrace their steps, Dean lay a hand on Hank's shoulder which stopped him. "Hank, it looks like the street is opening up this way." He pointed down a side street that Hank was about to pass. "The jet was out in the open, maybe its this way?"

Hank was tired of being lost and was willing to try anything. The two brothers changed course and began walking down the new street. The street was indeed opening up; the buildings seemed to have a definite end ahead and there was a series of bright lights at the end of the street. They continued on past the buildings and stared at the structure in front of them. It was a huge wall stretching as far as they could see in both directions. The wall was covered with black lettering in a language neither of them could read and sharp wire was strung all about the structure.

While the two stood dumbstruck, Hank forgot his feelings of being alone and the urge for adventure came back to him. "This wall must be protecting something!" He reasoned. "Let's find out."

"Are you crazy?" Dean cried, "I just want to go home."

"Aw, crybaby, we can be on that jet anytime, how often do we get a mysterious wall to explore?"

"That wall is the only thing separating the good people of this city from the endless nightmare of the soviets." An unfamiliar voice spoke behind them in a strange accent. The boys swung around to find a man and woman standing directly behind them looking at the wall. They were both dressed in a black trench coat that covered them completely from the neck down.

"Wow, are you two spies?" Hank immediately asked.

The man laughed good naturally, "Goodness no, we are scientists, isn't that right?" he asked of his woman companion.

"Oh yes, of course," the woman replied in a bored, yet strangely deep voice.

"And who might you two be, its not often you find two young American boys this close to the Berlin wall." The man inquired politely.

"I am Hank Venture, and this is my brother Dean. Who are you two?"

"My name is Hamilton Phantomos, and this lovely woman here is Sheila. Are you two related to Dr. Thaddeus Venture by any chance?"

"He's our father," Hank answered, already liking these two.

"Ah, your father. Does he know you two are out exploring the town by yourselves?"

"Well...not really, we were kind of trying to get back to him."

The man suddenly leaned away from the boy and whispered something to his female companion. The woman muttered something under her breath and Hamilton turned back to Hank. "It would be a pleasure to lead you back to your father. Come with us." He turned and began walking away from the wall. The woman started walking that way as well, and after a moment Hank and Dean followed.

"Are you sure about this?" Dean whispered into his brother's ear.

"Don't worry, he seems like a good guy. At least we'll find dad this way." He whispered back.

The pair led the boys back through the twisting streets, Hamilton asking the boys all kinds of questions about their father and whether they knew what this new invention he was showing off was supposed to be. Neither boys knew about it, and after a time Hamilton stopped asking. They were eventually led to a gleaming white building that seemed apart from the rest of the city. Nobody near the building had that expression of fear on their faces, and most appeared to be scientists. They were led into the building and into a large gathering room filled with men in lab coats or Swede jackets. The four wandered among them until Hank spotted his father hovering over a metal box while Myra and the albino watched the crowd.

"Dad!" Hank and Dean cried together and rushed across the room to where their father worked. Myra stepped in front of them and halted them before they could make it to the table.

Venture stopped working on whatever was in the box and covered it up. "I have no time for this! Why aren't you two back on the X1? Where is HeLPER?"

The boys tried to explain what had happened, but before they could start, their two guides approached the table. "Dr. Venture I presume?"

"Yes, that's me, I have time for distractions though, still getting set up here."

"Dad, they helped us-" Hank began.

"Hank, you are in enough trouble, don't go interrupting." his father said crossly. Hank scowled at the floor.

As Venture returned to stand next to the metal box, White held out his hand, "A pleasure to meet both of you, my apologies for Rusty here, he is feeling a bit anxious about the unveiling. My name is Peter White, founder of White Technology. And who might you be?"

"Hamilton Phantomos is my name, I am a fellow scientist here to see what the son of Jonas Venture had to offer the world. Maybe we could exchange pleasantries sometime before the unveiling Dr. Venture?"

"I see how this is, you show up pretending to rescue my boys and now you want secrets?" Venture scowled at Hamilton.

"You misunderstand, I only wanted to-"

"I am very busy here and have no time for pleasantries, you will find out about it when I am ready to reveal it."

"Very well, I hope it will be worth the wait." Hamilton replied curtly and he and his companion walked off and disappeared among the others gathered for the event.

"Geeze pop, he was just trying to be friendly." Hank said as he watched Hamilton walk off.

Venture rounded on his son, " I don't want to hear another word out of you or your brother, you are already in enough trouble. Myra, take the boys back to the X-1 and keep them there. Make sure they can't run off again."

"I am your bodyguard Rusty, I stay with you." She replied.

"I'll be fine! There's security and White will be here, just go."

"Fine Rusty, let's go kids." Myra gathered up the two brothers and led them away from their father. Hank turned around before they lost sight of him to see he had returned to whatever was in the metal box.


	4. The Mission Starts

Brock gazed out his window as the plane he was on flew through the skies of West Berlin. Hunter sat next to him, and his new officer in charge sat a few rows up. His eyes took in every sight of the city from overhead, storing each detail in map like detail in his head the way he had been taught by the very man that now sat next to him. The brightness of the Berlin wall stood out among the other buildings, which led Brock's eye back to it time and again. The wall, which stood between Western Civilization and the Soviets; the wall that stood between him and the mysterious Russian woman he had met five years earlier. No! Brock would not think about her, the mission was the only thing that mattered right now.

"There's a lot of trouble going on down there," Hunter said suddenly from beside him. "Don't believe that protection is all that is going on here. Secrets are the life of an OSI officer. You know that."

"I know, but it seems routine." Brock tried to answer.

"Routine as a strychnine flavored postage stamp. You had better watch your back."

"Come on, Hunter. I'm just supposed to watch this guy I knew in college. Its not like I'm marching into Russia and fighting them single-handed. This will be easy."

Hunter rounded on him. "Nothing is easy in OSI, if this doesn't go messy I'll eat my left shoe. We were selected for a purpose, just keep your eyes peeled for what that purpose is."

"All right, I'll keep watch." Brock sighed. Sometimes Hunter could be a bit dramatic, "I'm surprised you're not the commander here." He said, trying to change the subject.

"Orders are orders. All we need to know is we follow them and that's it. Looks like we're here."

Brock checked the window again to see that the plane had landed and rolled to a stop next to a large stepping platform. Brock got up after Hunter and they followed Colonel Traceter towards the exit of the plane. As Brock stepped onto the platform, he turned back to his mentor, "Well...I guess this is it."

"Yes, this is where the government gets to have its way with you and all you can do is hang on for the ride." Hunter leaned close to Brock and whispered, "I have my own orders, but if you need to talk I have a special radio frequency set up for just that." He slipped a small slip of paper in Brock's hand before turning away and heading back into the plane.

Brock waved a goodbye at the back of his mentor and pocketed the slip without looking at it. He decended the stairs and reached a walkway leading to an unmarked OSI van. Traceter had already began walking to the van, and Brock followed. As he walked, he could hear the plane's engines spooling up and beginning to taxi away from him. He could feel the plane draw further from him the closer he got to the van. He had never done a mission without Hunter before and he knew nothing about this Colonel Traceter, so he felt a little out of place as he stared at the van before him.

When he got closer the door slid open and a man dressed in military fatigues exited and saluted the two. "Colonel Traceter, Agent Sampson, a pleasure to meet the two of you."

Traceter saluted back, then held out his hand to the soldier. The soldier stared at the hand for a second before reaching out his own in a handshake. The soldier seemed puzzled by this lack of protocol, but just shrugged it off and motioned for the two to enter the van. "I'm supposed to take you to the convention."

The colonel smiled at the young soldier and offered a thank you, then entered the back of the vehicle. Brock followed and sat next to his superior. He was also puzzled by the man's behavior, he seemed too nice to be an OSI officer. When the van pulled away from the tarmac, the colonel turned to him, "So, Agent Sampson, I suppose we should get to know one another if we're to work together."

Brock just stared at his superior officer, he was so used to Hunter that this man's demeanor caught him off guard. Was he really up to leading a mission this close to the Soviets? "Yeah, I guess so," he half muttered.

"Come now! That attitude will never do!" The man said almost jovially. Brock winced at Traceter's upbeat tone. "We have a chance to do some good for our country, don't make it sound like a chore."

"Its just simple guard duty."

"Guard duty is as important as any duty. We are here to protect someone from harm, a noble quest for a very promising OSI agent." The colonel shot Brock a smile which made him feel more uncomfortable than when he left Hunter. Instead of responding, he turned to the window and watched the progress of the van as they headed to the convention center.

The van passed many intersections as it made its way, and at one intersection he thought he was seeing things. In the middle of the intersection, what appeared to be a robot was racing along the street with what could only be described as its arms flailing wildly around it. The van was beyond the intersection before Brock could be certain of what he saw, so he just dismissed it as a product of his imagination. A sign that the job might be getting to him.

When they finally arrived at the exhibition center, the soldier came around to open the door. Brock stared at the building, it resembled a football stadium that had been fully enclosed. Surrounding this massive building stood people by the score all dressed up in what he thought to be nerd clothing. People in white coats dominated the crowd, but here and there was a person in a business suit or a casual collared shirt. It certainly was not a crowd he would choose to mingle with.

When the door opened, Brock exited and stood before the great building. Traceter, however, did not follow him. "I will head to the hotel we will be treating as our base and set it up. " He said to Brock, "You have the operational number on your radio if you need to get a hold of me, good luck" Traceter waved farewell to Brock as the soldier got back in and drove the Colonel away from the building. The tall agent stared out over the sea of scientists and envied Traceter's ability to escape from this.

He sighed heavily and started walking towards the building. He had seen in the file where Dr. Venture could be located and navigated his way through the crowd trying to head there. His bulky frame caused him to jostle several of the chatting scientists who shot him a glare before returning to their conversation. Brock just rolled his eyes and continued on, not issuing an apology. It would fall on deaf ears anyway, everyone seemed so interested in talking about their current project, the situation in Berlin, or the mysterious invention of Dr. Venture.

He spotted the table the doctor had set his exhibition up on and made his way towards it. When he neared it he heard the voice of his former college roommate come from behind a large metal box, "White, hand me that wrench there. White!"

A tall albino he vaguely recognized stood by a toolbox staring agape at him as he made his way towards the table. The man finally got over his shock and came towards him hand outstretched, "Why, it is Brock Sampson, I never thought to see you again."

When his name was uttered, he heard a crash coming from the box and a scared version of the head he had seen in the photo in his file shot out from behind it. Dr. Venture had not aged that well since college; his hair was going bald and he seemed skinnier than normal. He stuttered off a greeting to the bigger man then shot a look at White. "Where is that wrench?"

White finally took his eyes off of Sampson and reached into the toolbox taking out the requested item. He handed it to Venture quickly then returned to Brock. "So what brings you out here? I never would have taken you as the type to be interested in this kind of gathering."

Having secured the wrench, Venture went back behind the box. "I'm here as protection." Brock said to White.

He heard cussing from behind the box, "I don't believe they still think I need more protection, who could possibly do anything with all these people around?" Venture said sarcastically.

"Those are my orders."

"Fine, just stand there and pretend to be useful. I have to um...tweak this baby before showing it off so I can't be bothered."

Brock sighed to himself. So, this is the big mission the OSI was going to give him. Guarding a whiney wimp and an albino. He silently wished something would go wrong so he would have something to do.


	5. The Presentation

Leaning against the wall next to Dr. Venture's table, Brock let out a big yawn. He had tried to hide them for the first hour they had come on him, but since nobody seemed to care he had stopped trying to cover. He glanced at the clock a little ways down the wall again, he had been here for over four hours and nothing was happening. White had tried to engage him in a conversation for the first couple of hours, but he had stopped, and the yawning had started an hour after that. So this was guard duty.

Dr. Venture had not seemed to be making much progress with his invention. From his words he seemed to be doing well, but his tone of voice was a different story. Brock's training had taught him how to recognize people's emotions through their tone of voice. Venture's tone said that he was worried and scared; perhaps his invention wouldn't be ready in time.

Once again, he scanned the faces of the people around him. They all seemed to be eager for the thing to begin, or eager to get back to the states. Here and there a military soldier was wandering among the crowd, but it was mostly scientists. If the Soviets were planning on stealing an invention from this affair, he or she might already be in the building, scoping it out. If it was a particular KGB agent, and he recognized her…

He had been thinking about that quite often while just standing there. Venture didn't require his attention so it was free to wander. He told himself that he was scanning the crowd to check for questionable people, but he knew who he was looking for. If he saw her it would mean an end to the boredom. As he was about to finish this latest scan, he thought he saw something odd out of the corner of his eye. It was a man wearing a yellow and black suit, but attached to the suit were what could only be called wings. When he turned his head to look again, the man was gone. Brock dismissed it as a product of the boredom.

A few minutes later, he found himself searching the crowd again. As his eyes scanned each face in the crowd, it rested on two that were just behind a small crowd that had gathered in front of him. Nobody in the crowd looked his way, but these two were. One was a tall man, completely covered in a black trench coat, black gloves, and a wide brimmed hat. The other was a woman dressed the same way as the man. They were watching him and Dr. Venture very closely and whispering at each other. He turned to White to see if he knew the two.

"As a matter of fact, I have seen them before." White responded. The woman seemed to catch White looking her way. She tugged on the man's sleeve and they both walked back into the crowd. "They found Rusty's boys from out in the city and brought them in." Rusty's boys? Brock was having a hard time imagining Venture with a woman. "They seemed eager to find out about Rusty's invention, but I guess so is everyone else here."

"A couple nosy scientists, trying to get a good look at my father…I mean my invention before its ready." Venture snapped, watching the two walk off.

Brock shrugged and returned to the wall. A couple of scientists was all, nothing exciting. White looked like he had more to say, but Brock turned his head and the albino didn't pursue it. With his head turned he tried to spot the two in the crowd. Something he hadn't noticed before was that there were more people dressed like them scattered throughout the scientists. More men in the wide brimmed hats and trench coats were milling about, talking to scientists, resting in corners or just standing by themselves. Every now and then one would clutch at his ear and speak quietly even if there was no one around.

He was about to call this in to Traceter when another man approached Venture. He was a little shorter than Venture and had on a very expensive looking suit. "Dr. Venture," he said pleasantly.

When Venture saw who it was, he quickly assumed a forced smile. "Dr. Greenich, is it already time?"

"Yes-" Dr. Greenich gazed down at the box; parts of the machine were still disassembled and laying on the floor. "You are ready I trust?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Just another brilliant idea for an improvement I had while waiting to show it off, I just need a few moments to put it back together and I'll be all set."

Dr. Greenich's expression looked relieved. "Ah, that sounds like the son of the late Dr. Venture, always thinking." The doctor winked at Venture. "As soon as you close it up I will escort you to where you will set up for demonstration."

"Right, right." Dr. Venture said, though Brock thought he might be trying to mask an anxious element from his voice. "You're staying here?"

"Yes doctor, I need to escort you."

Venture went into a flurry, grabbing tools and running around his machine. Brock was reminded of a procrastinating student trying to get his homework done before the teacher asked for it to be handed in. Eventually he secured the panel to the rest of his machine and laid his tools down. "It's ready" Venture said simply.

"Do you need help carrying it?" Greenich said gazing at the machine.

"That won't be necessary; we have someone who can carry it." Venture looked straight at Brock as he said this.

"No." Brock said simply.

"What? You are here to help me, and you have to do as I say." Venture's voice took on a whiney tone.

Brock just rolled his eyes, "I am your bodyguard, not your servant. Have him send someone to carry it." Brock nodded at Greenich who looked surprised by this confrontation.

Greenich called for a few men that seemed to work there to aid the doctor with the machine. They picked it up in front of a stunned Venture, and with it followed Greenich toward the end of the room. Brock and White followed them, White was dragging Venture along who still seemed like he wanted to protest. After he calmed down a little, the doctor took from the pocket of his shirt a small container of pills. He quickly dry swallowed a couple and seemed to relax. They followed the men to the end of the building and onto a raised platform. On the platform sat a podium, a table to sit the machine on, and a box covered with a white cloth. The workers sat the machine down on the table and disappeared back into the crowd.

Venture reached out and grabbed the cloth from the box. Inside was a small model of a Russian battle tank, a target for the doctor's machine. Venture replaced the cloth and stood back by his machine. Brock and White stood behind him, facing the crowd. Several people in the crowd had noticed the group setting up and where facing them. With a nod from Greenich, a worker dimmed the lights in the room for a second. This change in the lights got everyone else's attention so that the entire crowd was now facing the stage.

From the front row, Brock's eyes found the man and woman who had disappeared earlier. The two who had rescued Venture's boys. They were whispering to each other too quietly for Brock to overhear. He wished he could hear because they took turns pointing to places behind the stage and at the machine itself.

After the crowd had stopped getting into position and had settled down, Greenich stood at the pedestal and addressed them. "Military personnel, investors, and fellow scientists, I welcome you to this very special showing of the future of modern warfare. The illustrious son of the late Dr. Venture has come to us to show his newest invention. This invention shall revolutionize the conflict that many of you find yourselves in every day, and shall be the ultimate level of protection and defense for this great city. Now, allow me to introduce to you, the man of the hour, Dr. Thaddeus Venture!"

Applause broke out among everyone in the audience as Venture replaced Greenich at the podium. Greenich walked back and stood beside Brock. "This is pretty exciting isn't it?" He whispered to Brock. Brock tried to suppress a yawn as he nodded back. He figured his attempt to suppress it didn't work very well because Greenich just turned back to the podium. Then again, Brock didn't really care.

From up at the podium, Venture was smiling and obviously soaking in the applause from the crowd. When the applause finally died down, he stepped over to his box. When he did so, Brock began to notice one of the guys in the trench coats began to talk rapidly with a hand against his ear. A second later a scream erupted from somewhere near the back of the room. As Brock rushed to protect Venture several explosions erupted and flashes of light filled the room with smoke and debris. The crowd that had been so wrapped up in what Venture had to offer only seconds ago had forgotten all about it. The scientists where swarming for the exit, while military personnel where fighting to get through them to investigate where the explosions had gone off. Meanwhile, there were medics trying to get into the room to get to anyone wounded in the blasts.

Venture, White, and Greenich all huddled on the platform with Brock standing in front of them trying to shield them from the commotion below. Out of the haze of smoke a lone figure stepped onto the stage; he was one of the figures in a trench coat. After taking a look at the four of them, he pulled a small device from inside his coat, pressed a button on it and tossed it into the middle of the group. Brock caught the device before it hit the floor and in a swift movement crammed it down the front of the man's trench coat. The man struggled with the front of his coat frantically. Brock shielded everyone on the stage as a small explosion triggered from within the man's coat that created a huge amount of purple smoke. The man was enveloped in it fast and fell with a heavy thud off the stage.

From where the man lay, the purple gas was continuing to rise and soon it blanketed the stage. Brock was able to cover his mouth and nose with his sleeve, but the others were not as trained as he was. Within seconds, they each collapsed under its effect, and it was all Brock could do not to join them on the floor.

From out of the haze, two more figures appeared. It was the two White had pointed out, the man and woman. They where each wearing a mask over their face and seemed to be able to move about without any problems. The man seemed surprised to see Brock still standing. "They really do build them tough before sending them out here don't they?" he said mockingly.

Brock took a step towards him, wanting nothing more than to plant a fist into that face mask he wore, but the gas was affecting him more than he thought and was barely able to stay stable with his new feet position. He could see the woman sizing him up as the man picked up Venture's invention from the table. "Please express my gratitude for the good Dr. for his invention, the guild will find a good use for it." He said to Brock, and the two disappeared off the stage.

Brock struggled against the gas that was seeping all over the stage by now. He kept taking unstable step after step until finally he had reached the edge. Through the haze he could see the two figures running towards a door at the other end of the room. He wanted to follow them, but the gas seemed to be suggesting that everything would be all right if he just closed his eyes.

"Rusty?" A female voice shouted close to them. Brock turned his head groggily to see a woman with short blonde hair racing towards the stage. He tried to take a step towards her, but he had put his foot too far off the stage, and fell completely off. His body landed on top of the man who had triggered the sleeping gas, and with the pressure of Brock's body, a large amount of the gas slipped from his trench coat and into Brock's face. The last thing he heard was the woman's steps coming closer to the stage and her frantic yells of 'Rusty!' before everything went black.


End file.
